


three visitors

by amuk



Category: Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Coping, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: In the morning, Ylva woke him up. In the evening, his mother soothed him to sleep. In the night, his father asked him to return home. He might have only lost his father, but Thorfinn was haunted by three ghosts and they all refused to leave him alone.
Relationships: Helga & Thorfinn, Thorfinn & Helga, Thorfinn & Thors, Thorfinn & Ylva, Thors & Thorfinn, Ylva & Thorfinn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	three visitors

**Author's Note:**

> For the somewhere not here, Vinland Saga zine! I’m hoping for a season two and some more Ylva content, how can we not get anymore of her?

**1\. Daybreak**

“Get up already,” Ylva barked. Thorfinn didn’t need to see her face to picture her annoyed expression, the slow roll of her eyes when he didn’t move, her hand on her hip as she counted to ten. Mom had told her to be more patient and every morning was an exercise of restraint before she finally snapped. Fabric rustled as she pulled aside the curtains to the window, letting in sunlight.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbled, rolling over on his side to block out the light. And maybe to stop her from splashing water on his face. It wouldn’t be the first time she used cold water to jerk him awake.

She snorted. “Ten minutes isn’t going to help.” He could hear her pacing around the room, her fur boots muffling the sound of her footsteps. “We have to check the sheep and shovel the snow off the roof and that’s before lunch.”

Chores, chores, and more chores. There wasn’t a single day that Thorfinn didn’t wake up to a mountain of tasks that only seemed to get harder when winter rolled around. “Mom doesn’t want me on the roof,” he muttered. If he played his cards right, he could go practice fighting with the other kids and just skip the housework entirely. Ylva would kill him, but that was given either way.

“Oh no no no,” she answered quickly and he had pushed too far, she wasn’t going to try patience anymore. “I am not doing all of this alone.”

“It’s not like you do it all by yourself in the first place,” he pointed out, squeezing his eyes tighter as though he could reclaim some sleep that way.

There was a long silence, a pause where he couldn’t hear anything, and for a brief moment Thorfinn wondered if Ylva had left the room. Then, her voice impossibly soft, his sister sighed, “But now I have to.” There was no anger in her tone, no reprimand, just a resigned regret. “You’re not coming home, are you?”

Thorfinn’s eyes shot open and he wasn’t in his room, wasn’t in his house, wasn’t even in Iceland. He was in a muddy ditch and he rolled out of it, remembering just where he was. Every bone in his body ached and he lay flat on the ground, staring up at the blue sky. Nearby, a fire crackled. Looking over at him, Bjorn laughed, “So you’re still alive! Thought you died after that last battle.”

Died. Death. His father. Thorfinn closed his eyes, pushing his sister out of his mind. It was getting easier to do that, to take every thought of her and Iceland and shove it into a locked box. To get rid of every temptation to steal a boat and go home. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to sit up. “I’m not,” he spat out. “Not until I kill him.”

He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Bjorn or Ylva. He didn’t want to know.

**2\. Dusk**

Pressed against a barn door, Thorfinn quickly glanced around. Fortunately, now that the sun had set, the lights at the nearby house were out, the occupants asleep. They wouldn’t come here until the early morning, and by that point, he should be out and on his way. Stealing inside, he quietly made his way to a pile of hay in the back. A horse stirred at the sound of his footsteps, giving a small whicker before ignoring him.

Good thing this family didn’t have a dog. Thorfinn gave one last look at the dozing barn animals before plopping onto the hay with a wince. His hand automatically went to his sore side. It was wet. An actual injury then. Fuck. Thorfinn gritted his teeth as he touched the bloody spot, his fingers pressing against his skin as he tried to assess the injury. Now that he was laying still, all he could feel were dagger-like prickles from where he touched.

He needed to bandage it. Maybe he could find rags in the barn, staunch the injury long enough for him to make it back to the base camp.

Thorfinn needed to do all that but his eyes were heavy and his limbs refused to move and a short nap wouldn’t kill anyone. Closing his eyes, he burrowed into the itchy hay. A familiar, cool hand pressed against his forehead and he could hear a sad sigh before she gently brushed away his dirty bangs. Her touch was tender and his heart ached more than his injury did.

Mom.

Mother.

He remembered calling her each of those words, remembered this touch that was once more familiar than the cold steel of a blade. Her hands ghosted over his skin, examining each injury and sighing. She was saying something and he couldn’t hear the voice, couldn’t remember what she sounded like. Everything but her touch had faded away by this point.

He wished that fact hurt more.

**3\. Midnight**

Sitting on the forward prow of the ship, Thorfinn scanned the calm waters for any enemies. In the distance, Askeladd and his crew were drunkenly laughing and carousing, celebrating yet another victory over the English. He clicked his teeth as he glanced at their direction, at the brightly lit fires and sounds that seemed to echo in the night air. It was like they wanted to be caught.

If it weren’t for the fact that he still had to kill Askeladd, he’d let them.

“You still could,” Thors said, the boat creaking as he took a seat next to Thorfinn. “You don’t have to stay here.”

Thorfinn wasn’t sure what it said that he was used to this now, to the ghosts of his family haunting him at every waking step. Keeping his eyes glued on the water, he grunted, “I haven’t avenged you yet.”

“Still going on about that, huh?” His father sighed, exasperated, sounding just like he did when Thorfinn had been little and he’d done something bad. “I’d rather you go home than do this.”

“He killed you.” Thorfinn gritted his teeth, barely restraining his anger as he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Askeladd’s direction. The murderer’s laughter was the loudest of the bunch, grating his ears.

“And I am dead, you don’t have to join me here.”

He chuckled darkly. “I won’t be the one joining you.”

“Or perhaps you both will. This isn’t the path to happiness.” His father paused. In a softer, lower voice, he asked, “You won’t go home, will you?”

Thorfinn closed his eyes. “No, not yet.”

“I see.” Thors laughed sadly. “I wish you didn’t take after me so much. You were always following me around, trying to copy me, but you didn’t have to copy my mistakes.” He reached over ruffling Thorfinn’s hair. “But you’re almost a man now, and you have to make your own decisions. If this is your choice, see it through and find out if it was worth it in the end.”

Thorfinn leaned into his father’s touch. It’d break his resolve, if he looked at his father. It’d soften him.

He opened his eyes and tried not to be disappointed when no one was there.

**4\. Daybreak**

Birds chirped as Thorfinn woke up, their sweet thrilling heralding the dawn. He lay on the fur blankets, his eyes closed, waiting for the usual morning reprimand. The waves rocked his boat back and forth, water slapping gently against the hull.

Beyond that, pure and utter silence. Ylva wasn’t there, complaining. Thorfinn’s eyes flew open and he scanned his surroundings and saw nothing but water and a row of huts. Even the crew hadn’t woken up yet. Squeezing his eyes shut, Thorfinn strained his ears for even the tiniest sound but still, he couldn’t hear his sister’s voice.

She was gone. Then again, she had never been there in the first place. Nor had his mother or father and this was the way it should have been all along. It was a relief, really, to finally be alone. To not have an irritated voice, pushing him out of bed, or gentle hands massaging his sore muscles.

Or the worst of it, his father’s sad eyes watching him, asking him to take a different path.

No, it was a good thing to finally be alone.

It was a relief. It should have been a relief.

His chest ached and he tried not to think about what that meant, the implications of it all.


End file.
